


The Polonian Dilemma

by fivefootnothing



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Crack, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-20
Updated: 2009-05-20
Packaged: 2017-10-02 21:42:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fivefootnothing/pseuds/fivefootnothing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A gift from a mysterious race of shapeshifters has unusual consequences for the Doctor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Gift

"Tegan, have you seen the Doctor?" Nyssa settled delicately at the edge of the bed, her fingers plucking absently at the leafs of loose paper bundled together in her arms.

"Not since this morning," Tegan said. She shut the book in her hands with a sharp snap, deciding that Alice's conversation with the Mock Turtle would turn out less interesting than the seeking out of one errant Time Lord. "What's that?" She pointed at Nyssa's papers.

"The readouts from that odd ship we encountered the other day. I've just finished analyzing the data."

"And?"

"...and I think the Doctor ought to see this," Nyssa said, surprising herself with how controlled she felt despite the troubling report.

"It could be nothing," suggested Tegan hopefully, offering a shrug. "It could be a mistake?"

"It's no mistake." Nyssa grasped the bedpost to steady herself, and she rose to her feet smoothly. "And we ought to find that 'gift' the captain transported onboard the TARDIS as well."

"What, that...egg thing? It isn't a _real_ egg. The Doctor said so himself. It's a sort of energy storage device, like a battery. And it's empty." She caught onto Nyssa's plan of action straight away. "Oh, alright. I'll go search near where the Doctor stashed that egg. You can check around the Zero Room."

Nyssa would not admit to worry, not yet, though the readings from the scans called forth an urgency which could only be quelled by the Doctor's presence. He'd know what to do, or if he didn't, he'd at least try to soothe her concerns and then invite her to help work out a solution with him. She'd passed the sixth of a dozen or so doors lining the corridor when she heard a familiar voice bellow: "...infernal machine!"

She halted, then twirled around to face the door. "Doctor?" she called, straining to listen to any hint of a noise emanating behind the shut opening.

Silence.

Then a sound which resembled a mouse, or some other small furry creature, skittering along the bare floor.

"Doctor," continued Nyssa. "I've heard you inside. There's something I wish to show you."

"Er, does it have to be right this instant?" The Doctor sounded profoundly distracted, as if focusing on a hundred things at once. "I'm, ah...I'm a bit busy at the moment. Come back later?" A hint of desperation made his voice squeak.

"But it's important." Nyssa shoved the door open just in time to see a pile of disused cardboard boxes shift and settle themselves around a moving presence. "What's wrong?"

Moments ticked away in silence. Nothing moved. And then a muffled reply came from somewhere buried among the boxes. "I-I've lost something."

"Does it have anything to do with the Polonians?" she asked as she ventured a little closer to the boxes. She could see a shape concealed among the shadows, but the outline was unclear. "I've looked through the data readings from the TARDIS and...Doctor?"

"Hmmm...?" asked the boxes.

"The Polonians. They're shape-shifters, aren't they? And some among their race are able at times to bestow this ability onto other species. On accident."

"Yes!" barked the Doctor. "Fascinating! Quite!" The words came rapid-fire, as if he were dusting himself free of them.

"Is that what's happened to you?"

A deep, resigned sigh came from the gathering of cardboard. A peach-colored piece of fabric fluttered into view, curling against the folded edges of a box almost hesitantly, almost as if it were being controlled by a sentient force. In fact, it nearly looked like...

A hand.

Tiny, fuzzed fingers pushed the boxes aside. Rising from the pile came a head, topped with soft, feathery material dyed a near-impossibly bright yellow. Plastic, robin's egg blue eyes settled keenly on Nyssa. They blinked at her, making a smooth clicking noise. The Doctor attempted a sheepish grin with his now oddly wide mouth. He then drew to his full height, velvety hands going into his pockets as he flopped his legs in a strange parody of a walk.

"You're made of felt," Nyssa blurted out before thinking, trying very hard not to stare at the small figure standing near her. But she couldn't quite help it. She ought to be looking up at the Doctor, not looming over him. Every inch of the Time Lord, from his hair down to his trainers, had been shrunk down and made plushy.

Even his celery had gone fuzzy and woolen and soft.

"Fleece, actually. Felt is pressed, not woven. It wouldn't be nearly as pliant," the Doctor replied, cocking his head curiously and staring at his fingers before giving them an experimental wiggle. His brow furrowed slightly, the fleece on his forehead pushing into faint wrinkles. "Three fingers and a thumb. Oh, dear." He clambered among the boxes, finding one he could sit on without too much effort.

Nyssa watched the Doctor's movements, caught between worry and fascination. What constituted the physiological processes which were keeping him alive and mobile? What if they couldn't figure out a way to change him back? Would he still be a Time Lord, even when resembling a child's toy? What would the High Council of Gallifrey think?

"--sa!" Tegan scrambled into the room. "I've been searching everywhere for you! I haven't found the Doctor but look..." She brandished a white panama hat. "I found it near that egg thing. And why is there a puppet in cricketing gear over there?"

The Doctor heaved his shoulders and raised his right hand in a patient little wave.

"_Doctor_? Oh, my goodness!" exclaimed Tegan. She dropped the hat as she rushed towards the Doctor, lifting him up while he squirmed in protest, his legs dangling high in the air. "What's happened to you?"

"A Polonian transmogrification pattern, Tegan," he said huffily. "Now kindly put me down, please."

"Sorry." She set the Doctor back down to the floor. "It's just that I've never seen you so...so..."

"Sewn together?" he suggested grumpily.

"I didn't mean...Look, you're not making this easy..."

"Oh, well. In _that_ case, I'm terribly sorry to have _inconvenienced_ you!" the Doctor snapped, his felty head shaking in frustration.

Nyssa abruptly remembered why she'd wanted to find the Doctor in the first place. She knelt beside him and placed a tentative hand on his elbow, but nearly drew her fingers away in shock. For she felt no internal structure, no skeleton. His arm simply yielded to her squeeze, all fluff within. "Doctor..."

"Ah, the readings. May I see them?" He stretched out his hands to take the stack of papers. Fetching his glasses from his coat pocket, he settled them on the bridge of his nose and started ruffling through the pages. "Hmm, doesn't look too difficult to reverse..."

A subtle ripping sound came from near the vicinity of the Doctor's head, until his nose, unable to hold the added weight of the specs, simply fell away from his face.

"My _nose_ comes off?" he squeaked, vexed. Mustering up as much dignity as a fabricated creature could, he casually swooped his hand to grab at the offending facial feature and stuck his nose back on the flat expanse of fabric below his eyes. As for the glasses, he pocketed those, though not without first giving the wire frames a frustrated squeeze. How dare these things manage to tear his nose away from his head!

Tegan and Nyssa, unable to contain their shared laughter, exchanged significant looks.

The Doctor narrowed his eyes, brow drawing downwards as he frowned. "What's the matter?"

Nyssa smiled but remained silent, her eyes contrite. She really did feel sorry for him, despite her amusement.

"Nothing, Doctor," said Tegan. "But you're just...adorable!" She gave the Doctor's plumed head a tousle. "He feels like he looks!"

He ducked out of the way of Tegan's probing fingers. "The swifter I get back to normal, the better!"

"But not too swift. It isn't every day we know exactly where you'll be, Doctor." And without warning, Tegan lifted him into one of the cardboard boxes. "You can stay in there and help us figure out a way change you back."

He clung to the side of the box, small fingers drumming out a rhythm of discontent. "It doesn't look as if I've much of a choice, does it?"

"No," Tegan said with a smirk, dropping the Doctor's hat upon his tiny head, giggling as the brim settled onto his shoulders.

"Tegan," Nyssa sighed. "You shouldn't tease him so. I think his emotional state may be inversely proportional to his size."

"So you mean, the smaller he is, the more upset he might get?"

"It's only a theory but it might explain why...wait a moment." Nyssa went to tug the hat off, revealing no Doctor beneath.

"Where's he gone?" Tegan checked the box, upturning it as if expecting the Doctor to tumble out from some secret panel.

"I told you not to tease him."

"Well, how was I to know he'd react like this?" Tegan looked around. "Doctor?"

"It's no use. He might've left the room already."

"This is worse than just after his regeneration. At least we managed to seal him in that Zero Cabinet then."

"But he escaped from that too, don't forget," Nyssa said, heading for the door. "Oh, come on. Let's find him before he manages to transform himself into something worse." What that worst thing was, she wasn't entirely sure. Taking one last look around the room, she swiveled and rushed out after Tegan. She was positive the Doctor was nearby.

After all, how far could he travel on one tiny pair of plush legs?


	2. It's Not Easy...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tegan seeks out a solution for the Doctor's little...problem.

"Dead end? Oh, no. I thought for certain the kitchens were this way." Tegan huffed, touching her palms against the roundel-lined wall which dared sit in a doorway's place at the end of the corridor. She gave the wall an impatient shove, as if sending a message to the TARDIS for misleading her again. Silly thing to assume, really. The TARDIS was just a ship, a vehicle like Aunt Vanessa's car. It didn't have feelings or a mind of its own, despite the way the Doctor tended to dote on the thing whenever he had the chance.

Then again, Aunt Vanessa held a soft spot for her car, even when it broke down in the middle of the road, just as the Doctor dismissed any wonkiness in the TARDIS, even after the fiftieth time of trying to set her on a heading back to Heathrow.

It was odd, how people tended to get attached to...things. Moreso than other people, sometimes. She understood the reasons why.

Things were predictable and safe; people weren't.

"Some coordinator I turned out," she continued, swiveling on her heel and heading back the way she'd come. "Don't even know why I'm saying this all out loud. It isn't as if anyone's about to hear me." Nyssa had practically barricaded herself in the TARDIS main laboratory room and refused to come out until she'd solved the Doctor's rather bizarre 'condition'. She took her meals from the food machine within the lab. She barely slept, and when she did, she lay on a tiny cot set up in the corner of the room. Recalling that worrisome spell where Nyssa fainted and had to remain in the TARDIS as she recuperated, Tegan kept checking on her, making sure she did eat and sleep and take breaks from her research. And though Nyssa said she welcomed any offer of help, Tegan felt utterly useless in the lab. It was always 'Please don't put that there, Tegan' or 'The readouts ought to be in parts per million instead of parts per billion, Tegan'. And though Nyssa was the sweetest, most patient person Tegan ever knew, Tegan was no scientist. She felt a burden, only getting in the way as Nyssa bustled about trying to get the Doctor back to flesh and blood instead of...of...

...fleece and fluff.

As for the Time Lord himself, the Doctor hadn't been seen since yesterday evening. Or, rather, Tegan thought it was the Doctor. Who knew anymore? It could have been that fawn-colored teddy bear, the one with the panama hat and the cricket pullover and the bright red trousers which Tegan spotted once and only once. Either she'd imagined that such a stuffed toy existed (unlikely, as she prided herself on her memory), or the Doctor took to tucking it away from curious eyes. Tegan suspected the latter, though like most everything concerning the Doctor, there may be more reasons than the most obvious ones.

Absently, she chose a random door and pushed it open, stumbling forwards as she flailed to keep her balance. The ground beneath her feet yielded easily to her weight. It felt...spongy, as if she were wandering about on tightly-packed threads. Or leaves. Or...

"Moss?"

A rich purple sky hovered above her, pockmarked with brilliantly twinkling stars. The air smelled fragrant and warm, heavy with the mingling scents of wildflowers. Crickets trilled somewhere in the distance, and frogs and cicadas added their own warbling songs to the symphony. A full moon's light guided Tegan's way along this patch of late summer, as she warily approached the small, silhouetted figure sitting upon a log, its legs dangling over the side and swinging faintly in the breeze.

The Doctor resembled an abandoned rag doll, left outdoors after a full day's playing by a careless child. Tegan always thought him a bit reserved, but now as she saw him, scarcely moving, his gaze settled on the expanse of stars overhead, she wanted nothing more than to slip her arms around him and give him a hug.

Instead, she crouched beside him and gave his arm a sharp, twisting pinch.

The Doctor went ramrod straight, yelping as he nearly tumbled off the log. Though his arms and legs flopped about uselessly, he somehow managed to shove himself upright again, his hand going immediately to massage his elbow. "Tegan! What on earth was that for?"

"That?" Tegan puffed out a humorless chuckle. "_That_ was for making Nyssa and me worry! Neither of us have seen you since yesterday. Would it have been so difficult to actually tell us where you'd be so I wouldn't have to track you down like a lost pet? We really should put a collar on you, you know! Like the type researchers use to trace migrating animals. Nyssa's toiling away at a cure and here you are, perched on a log in a marsh. Let's see if the TARDIS can give you a banjo and coating of green paint so we can finally call you Kermit!"

"A-are you quite done?"

"No. You've got to talk to Nyssa, Doctor. I'm worried. She's not had a proper rest in days, and I know she'll not leave that lab room until she's discovered a foolproof way to mend you. And why aren't you in that lab helping her? I'd have thought you'd be the first person to want to go back to normal. Unless you actually enjoy having fluff for brains, or maybe you haven't spotted the difference!"

The Doctor's mouth hung open, jaw flinching wider as he tried to sneak in a word or two between Tegan's verbal barrage. "I'm not sure if you've noticed," he started, voice going harder-edged. "But my hand span is now a mere three inches. I'd be no help in a laboratory whose equipment is designed for, oh I don't know, normal-sized individuals and not someone unable to reach the controls on the TARDIS console? I've no grip with these..." he sighed, staring at his fleece fingers. "Glass beakers slip straight through. It's impossible to write. What shall I do whilst in the lab, hmmm? Offer emotional support? Spur Nyssa on as she pieces together the solution? I'd be--"

"Useless," Tegan chimed in at the same time as the Doctor, tossing him a knowing, withering look.

"Ah." He wrung his hands together, movements quick and anxious. "Tegan, you're not useless. You're my--"

"Coordinator. That's all well and good, Doctor, but what does that exactly mean?"

"I...well, it's..." He started to shape his fingers as if clutching them around an invisible ball. His wrists twisted this way and that, his hands twiddling in mid-air. "...complicated."

"You don't know, do you?"

"Not as such, no. In fact, I'm not sure why I assigned the lot of you positions in the first place."

"It's a crowded TARDIS. Maybe it'd be for the best if I just left again."

"But a full TARDIS crew requires six individuals to pilot. We've only three. If anything, there ought to be three more."

"Six? Rabbits, Doctor! How can you handle six when just having the three of us about drove you bonkers? I mean, how was it with just you and Nyssa all those months, then?"

"Distressingly quiet."

"And what do I bring to the party? I'm just Mara-bait."

"Tegan. Now you _know_ that isn't true! No one travelling with me is any more or less important than anyone else."

"Please don't look at me like that, Doctor."

"Er. I can't help that. I think the left eye sticks a bit at times." He reached towards the offending eye to prod at it, poking at it with his fingers and swiveling it loosely in its socket without showing a hint of discomfort.

She tried to wave off her astonishment at the Doctor's gesture with an incredulous chuckle. "Okay, Doctor. The thing is...all of it. There's Cybermen and Mara. The Master. Omega. And all those times you lead us straight into danger. Those are the moments I consider leaving--"

"Tegan!"

"I'm not finished! But then, you bring us to places like Deva Loka or centuries into Earth's future. Onto spaceships and into history. And now, look at me. You've gone all soft and plushy and I'm speaking normally with you, as if stuff like this happens every day. But with you? With you, it _does_. How could I give that up now? And I know I can't stay with you forever. I've seen the vidtapes. People pass through the TARDIS all the time. It must be bizarre for you. I mean, how long do they hang about? A few years? What is that to a Time Lord, Doctor? Do you blink and we're here? Another blink and then we're gone?"

The Doctor went quiet, head tilted up as he concentrated on the wide expanse of stars again.

"Well, you're not getting rid of me that easily, Doctor." She crouched in front of him and lay her hands on either side of his face, absently rubbing her fingers against the downy fleece. She eased his head forward a little and place a brief kiss on his forehead, then adjusted his feathery hair. She stood, dusted her skirt off, then laughed, amused. "You know, if you were a real puppet--"

"I _am_ a real puppet," he pointed out huffily, offended by the suggestion that he were somehow faking his condition.

"I mean, like the ones on the telly. If you were like the ones on the telly and we started having a heart-to-heart, I think this'd be just about the right time for us to sing a song about how everyone's special."

"Sing?" He boggled at her. "Good grief. I'll, ah, I'll speak with Nyssa, shall I?" he said gently, hopping off the log with an unnatural grace. Tegan supposed the oddness of his gestures was due to his lack of skeleton. Everything the Doctor did seemed...softer, fainter, more muted. Weird how it took a sudden transformation into a puppet to make the centuries-old alien time traveller seem otherworldly. "It really isn't proper to allow her to go at it alone," he said. "And I'm sorry for all the worry. This new body, it's a bit frustrating. I-I'm refusing to settle into it for I know it must not be permanent and yet--"

"You're stuck with it, good and proper."

"Temporarily," he added.

"It's a bit like regeneration, isn't it? New body to get used to?"

"Tegan..." He drew her name out in a long-suffering manner, eyes shutting with a solid plastic click as he tilted his head back. "It isn't a thing like regeneration. First off, the only physically traumatic thing I experienced beforehand was...w-was..." His eyes went impossibly wide, resembling round baubles protruding out the front of his face. His jaw went slack, dropping down into a broad, gaping grin. "Wait a moment, that must be the _solution_! Tegan! You're marvellous!" He leapt up to offer her a swift and tight hug.

She could only laugh and comfort him with a squeeze of his shoulder. Nyssa mentioned something about the Doctor getting more emotional in puppet form, but it was still strange to see the normally staid Time Lord so overly excitable. "Doctor?"

"Regeneration!" he exclaimed, dropping to the ground. "When Time Lords regenerate, there are hormonal shifts, the lindos organ becomes active and...lindos. It's a hormone normally found in great abundance in the blood of newly-regenerated Time Lords. If Nyssa is able to synthesize the hormone, I could use it to force a partial regeneration, enough to settle my body back to the stock Gallifreyan."

"Will that work?"

"I don't see how it wouldn't!" He sped along to the exit, entire body bobbing up and down frantically as if controlled by an external force. "Well, hurry along," he added, beckoning to her. "Can't keep Nyssa in the dark, must keep moving!" And he disappeared out the door, down the corridor and around the corner, abandoning Tegan within the Marsh Room.

"A song, Doctor," she sighed, even as she grinned. "I really could've done with a song." She trailed after him, using her steps to count out a rhythm to the melody in her head as she made her own way back to the lab.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the (in?)famous Angel episode, "Smile Time". I'm so, so sorry. &gt;.&gt;


End file.
